The drive from the Cairo airport to Giza went past some incredible Ottoman architecture and then passed the older Salahuddin’s aqueduct. Gradually, we were diving deeper into history. And then, out of nowhere, the Great Pyramid appeared on the horizon. Like an apparition, it hung in the air, shivering in the afternoon light. It was tinged blue, perhaps by automotive exhaust. The next day, a tour guide drove us to the pyramids, which dwarfed anything in sight. The three-dimensional structures epitomised geometrical grace. It is said that when Napoleon arrived in Giza, he arranged his soldiers in arrays in front of the pyramids. Astride his white stead, he looked at them and said, “Soldiers, look up and you will see 40 centuries of history are looking down at you.” If you looked away from the city, the desert stretched out endlessly, evoking the grand panorama of the film ‘Lawrence of Arabia’. Colourfully decorated camels with their drivers were seated nearby, waiting to take you on a ride around the perimeter of the pyramids. The pyramids looked desolate, with no sign of the grandeur of the Age of Pharaohs. The opulent royal coffins had long been stolen by tomb robbers across the centuries, perhaps disturbing the god-like beings in their eternal life. The silence of the sands and the emptiness of the pyramids spoke volumes about what had happened in ancient Egypt. It brought to mind the scene described in Shelly’s poem “Ozymandias” – ‘nothing beside remains. Round the decay/Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare/The lone and level sands stretch far away.’ The September sun had heated up the desert sands. We thought that the best way to see the pyramids would be to ride in one of those horse-driven carriages that were lined up nearby and skipped the camel rides. But our daughters were brave enough to ride on the camels. After the tour, we sat in a café with a near-perfect view of the Sphinx. In the sweltering heat, the salty perspiration from my forehead entered my eyes, and I grabbed an icy cold can of Coke. Later, we went over to see the Museum of Antiquities in old Cairo. It was hot and humid inside, worse than the outside. Perhaps there was no air conditioning in it. I felt dizzy and began looking for a chair. But there was none. I felt like I would pass out, a guard summoned the medics, and they carried me to the clinic on a hand truck. A female doctor dressed in black from head-to-toe asked me a few questions, checked my vitals, and gave me a saline shot in the hip in what were probably the most socially awkward moments in my life. But I was on my feet again in 15 minutes. I thanked her profusely. My vacation had been returned to me, along with my sanity. If you looked away from the city, the desert stretched out endlessly, evoking the grand panorama of the film ‘Lawrence of Arabia’. Colourfully decorated camels with their drivers were seated nearby, waiting to take you on a ride around the perimeter of the pyramids We left the clinic but the urge to tour the museum had left me. What I had been through was enough. I just wanted to feel the fresh air. Ramses II would have to wait for a third visit. I was done with the antiquities. In the following days, we toured some of the must-see sights of Cairo. The traffic was terrible everywhere we went, on par with the worst I had seen in my travels around the globe. But there was no other way to get around town. In the end, it was worth the hassles. We saw the graceful bazaars of old Cairo, the grand forts and the stunning mausoleums of the golden era of Islam, and the magnificent mosque of Muhammad Ali. He was an Ottoman commander of the 19th century who governed Egypt. An Albanian by birth, he is regarded by some as the founder of modern Egypt. He instituted extensive reforms in many spheres of life, including the military. The dynasty that he established ruled Egypt until the coup of Gamal Abdel Nasser in 1952. In stark contrast stood the eclectic high rises of new Cairo. Any of those would easily fit into the urban landscape of any other Arab country. They had no distinguishing features. In between new and old Cairo, there was the tomb of late Egyptian president Anwar Sadat. He lies buried underneath a magnificent, pyramid-shaped memorial to the unknown soldier of the 1973 war, which he directed. Also known as the Yom Kippur war, it is the only war in the Arab-Israeli conflicts that the Arabs nearly won. It changed the power equation in the Middle East and led to peace between Egypt and Israel. Elsewhere in the old city, tucked in the back of an old sandstone mosque, there was the much more diminutive tomb of the Shah of Iran, near the tomb of King Farouk. His imperial standard was hoisted at one end of the tomb, which hearkened back to the Pahlavi dynasty that had perished with him. When he died, Iran refused to let his Persian soil be polluted by his remains. Sadat, an old friend, graciously accepted them. It was hard not to think of the 2,500th anniversary of Cyrus the Great that the Shah had observed in October 1971 with much pomp and circumstance in the ancient city of Persepolis. General Yahya Khan had attended it on behalf of Pakistan. The food and wine was catered by Maxim’s of Paris in the ultimate extravaganza. And now the Shah lay in this small tomb in a foreign country. One evening, we took a night cruise along the Nile River. There was not much to see from the deck of the ship, since the buildings were not lit up. A buffet dinner was served. Just as the guests sat down to eat, a belly dancer began to perform, providing the necessary spice for the evening to some who had found the Mediterranean cuisine a bit bland for their palate. The next day we drove up to the seaside town of Alexandria. To ensure that we would not test his limited knowledge of the English language, he turned on the radio to a station that only broadcast the scripture during the trip. The ancient library was gone, replaced with an ultra-modern structure with a contemporary collection. It was framed by the Mediterranean, which shimmered in the afternoon light. Cleopatra’s harbour was rumoured to be buried nearby under the blue waters. I thought of Alexander, after whom the town was named. Afterwards, we flew to Sharm El-Sheik in the Sinai on Egypt Air. Our hotel was set by the sea. The views of the blue sea were enchanting. We toured the local markets and savoured the offerings in the eateries. We wondered whether we should make a day trip to Mt Sinai where tradition says that the Ten Commandments were revealed to Moses. But time had run out. It was time to go. We returned home enriched with the most incredible memories, hoping to return one day to see Luxor and the Valley of Kings. The writer has visited 35 countries on six continents. He can be reached at ahmadfaruqui@gmail.com Published in Daily Times, October 5th 2017.